Clifton Chenier first rose to national prominence in 1955 with his R&B hit “Ay Tete Fee.” Nearly a decade later the ride was well over with Chenier playing only to a small Houston crowd the night bluesman Lightning Hopkins introduced him to recordman Chris Strachwitz. A year later Strachwitz returned to make a more ethnic long player, “French music,” as Chenier termed it, though the session was compromised as half rock and half French. Luckily the stuff (“Zydeco Et Pas Sale,” “Louisiana Blues”) that invaded the Gulf Coast airwaves was sung in Chenier’s native patois and eventually convinced the future king of zydeco to stay true to his roots. Since then, Chenier’s Arhoolie debut has been beefed up using the original source tapes to sound more au natural in stereo, no longer sounding “thin” (mono) as previous critics have noted. For the most part, Creole-crooned blues and boogie are what’s on tap here, virtually overflowing with unstoppable, passionate power that’s augmented by guitarist Cleveland Keyes’ rollicking licks and Elmore Nixon’s spankin’ ivories. “Hot Rod Boogie” bombs down the pike like an unmanned Batmobile; “It’s Hard” finds Chenier practically peeling his lips off on harmonica. Several tracks are pure country old school zydeco with just Chenier’s squealing accordion, Mason Guidry’s rapping drums and brother Cleveland’s rubboard scrapping out front and center. The proceedings also include previously unreleased tracks such as “Ay, Ai Ai,” “Accordion Boogie” (it does) and the first take of “Zydeco Et Pas Sale.” Along with the historically significant liner notes, this one is bestowed the ultimate recommendation: You don’t have this one yet?